


Aspersion

by GE Buchanan (GracieForeth), GracieForeth



Series: Hydra!Steve [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9292826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieForeth/pseuds/GE%20Buchanan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieForeth/pseuds/GracieForeth
Summary: Eleanor "Lena" Beck is an Avenger and enjoying the whole experience. Everything is going great until she is kidnapped and finds out not everyone is who they say they are.This started off as a small thing I did on WattPad as an xReader, but I have turned it into a story now.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ValiantKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValiantKat/gifts).



> For the whole story, but I will note at the beginning of the chapters if there is anything   
> Warnings & Triggers: Blood, language, torture, betrayal, restraints, kissing, touching, smut (eventually), abuse, manipulation, feels

_"Beck, you got eyes on Cap?"_

I moved my wrist close to my mouth so I wouldn't have speak too loud. "Why do I need eyes on Cap, Wilson?" I whispered trying to keep the panic out of my voice, as I pressed my back against the wall after hearing a noise around the corner.

" _Beck Cap's not--"_ Sam started to speak again, but I shushed him and drew my gun from my hip holster. I took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever was around the corner. The shadow on the floor eased my discomfort as I saw the outline to be that of Steve's.

"Steve?" I whispered, my gun still ready to be used just in case.

"Lena?" he answered back, "It's just me."

He came around the corner, his shield in front of him, helmet off revealing his messy blond hair. He had a cut by his hairline, blood streaming down his temple and cheek. He looked like shit, but I hate to see the other person.

I holstered my gun, sighing in relief. "Steve, you scared me," I whispered, my hand reaching for his. He moved the shield behind his head to attach it the magnets on his back. I pulled him close and kissed him softly. It was against every protocol in the book, but Sam had me worried about Steve.

" _Lena, do you copy?"_ Sam's voice said in my ear.

"Sam, Steve's with me. Relax," I muttered back, gripping Steve's hand more.

"Get a-- f--m --im!" Sam broken voice said in the com.

"Wha--"

" _He's be-- com--ised!_ " Sam yelled, static coming through, breaking his speech.

I squinted my eyes trying to focus on what he was saying, and wondered why the com wasn't working now when it was before...

 


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some French used, mentions of sex

The alarm went off in an annoying string of beeps. I rolled over and slammed my hand down on the snooze button then rolled back to snuggle into the warm body next to me. A groan escaped my lips when it moved away from me causing the person it belonged to chuckle.

"Wake up, chéri. You don't want to keep Fury waiting."

I groaned again, pulling the covers up over my head.  "Sorry Captain, I think I might be coming down with something," I muttered into the pillow. I waited for his rebuttal, but instead of voicing it, I felt his hand on my hip under the sheet, gripping it ever-so firmly making me whine.

"Steve," I whined, "just five more minutes. We just got back from France not even four hours ago, let alone fell asleep only two hours ago."

"And who's fault is that?" he said, and I could hear the smirk he was wearing, his fingers grazed my skin above my shorts I was wearing causing me to hum in content.

"I blame you," I sighed, removing the material from my head to look at him. The smirk was there on his face, blue eyes shining with amusement.

"You're the one who initiated," he chuckled, leaning down to kiss my forehead, his fingers continued their path up to my ribs under my shirt.

"And you're the one that tempted me," I retorted, biting my lip as his fingers moved to my stomach and further up to the valley between my breasts. "Vous serez la mort de moi," I moaned as his hand covered one of my breasts and kneaded it gently.

"We need to get going Lena," he chuckled, removing his hand and getting off the bed. He walked into the en suite and I rubbed my eyes, sitting up.

"Next time, I vote for one more night stay in Bordeaux," I yelled at him as I got out of bed and walked to the closet to retrieve my office garb: light blue button up and black slacks. I stripped out of my pajamas and noticed a dark bruise forming on my left thigh.

"I didn't notice that last night," Steve said from the doorway of the bathroom.

"Well the lights were off," I smirked, laying the clothes on the bed and walked up to him. "Won't be a mission without a bruise or two." I slipped by him to use the shower but his large hands gripped my waist and lifted me up to set me on the counter top. I yelped from how cold it was as he stooped down, his fingers ran over the marked skin and he placed a light kiss on my thigh, sending a shiver up my spine.

Steve stood up, smirking. "Later," he whispered, his index finger tapped the tip of my nose causing me to scrunch it up. "Get in the shower or we'll be late."

"Yes, _Sir_ ," I drawled out, my eyes fixed on his as my lips curled into a smile. I saw his eyes darken, his pupils dilating and he licked his lips. Pulling him closer to me with my legs wrapped around his waist and my hand in his hair, I pulled him down to kiss him deeply. Calloused hands were on my waist, fingers digging into the flesh; he tried his best to stay in control but once my hand went under his white beater, fingertips lightly grazing his extremely toned stomach, he pulled away, lifting me in the process.

"Damn it, Lena," he growled, his fingers digging into my ass. "Fury is going to kill us."

"I'll make it worth your while," I smirked and I leaned into whisper, "Je vais même parler en Français, Monsieur." Before I could give him a kiss, he tossed me on the bed causing me to giggle as my outfit fell to the floor.

He pulled off his beater and positioned himself on top of me, his lips curled in a smirk. "Tu ferais mieux de," he whispered and kissed my neck, slowly moving towards my sweet spot by my ear.

My hands slid down his back, my legs wrapped around his waist. "Bien sur monsieur," I moaned, as my back arched into him.


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some more French and Gaelic

****"You look like shit."

"Jet lag would do that with lack of sleep," I said, dropped on the couch with a sigh, my legs draping over Clint's lap.

"Well, if you and Cap weren't banging each other's brains out until the wee hours and right away when you wake up." The archer looked at me with a smirk. "And what's up with you screaming 'pace'?"

I felt my cheeks burn as my hands covered my face. "No pace. Pêches," I muttered though my hands.

"Pêches?" he asked.

"French for peaches," a voice came from behind the couch. I moved my hands to see Steve walk up to us, giving me a kiss on the forehead. "It's our safe word."

Clint made a mock motion of throwing up. "Not like I need to know what you two do behind closed doors."

"Oh please, Nat tells me everything you two do," I replied, a smirk on my face.

"Everything?"

"Every. Single. Detail." I looked at him seriously, hoping he couldn't see through my bluff. His face was reddening and I knew it worked as he got up and excused himself.

"Nat never told you anything," Steve said, taking Clint's spot on the couch. He set my feet in his lap, his fingers massaged my calves. He knew that they hurt from wearing those blasted heels everyday for almost two months. Stupid undercover operation.

"She tells me some, but he doesn't need to know that," I sighed, "just keep doing that and I will forgive you for telling him our safety word." My arm fell over my eyes as I relish in his soothing touch.

Steve chuckled as his hands continued their path on my legs. "Well, you were screaming it quite loud this morning."

I pushed his torso with my foot which made him laugh harder. "Well, if you would have stopped at three, I wouldn't have been using it."

"I love making you beg me to stop," he whispered, his hands abandoning my legs, one was at my hip. I moved my arm and looked at him. His blue eyes were blazing causing me to give an exaggerated sigh.

"Again, love?" I complained with a smile.

"I can go all day," he said with a smile, his thumb slipping under my shirt, grazing my heated flesh. Damn him and his insatiable super soldier stamina.

"Only if you carry me back," I sighed in mock defeat, but in reality, I wanted it just as bad.

"That's fine with me," he replied. He stood and held out his hand to help me up. Before I could say anything, he had me slung over his shoulder, giving me a great view of his ass.

"You know, I've noticed that your pants are rather tight across your derrière, Cap. Maybe we can remake you as Captain Tightpants," I joked. I was about to go on when a loud smack interrupted my thoughts and soon replaced by a slow ache. "Did you just slap my ass?" I asked, slightly taken aback from his brazen move. Since France, he's been different. And I liked it.

"Keep going on about my ass, yours will be pink," he warned in his captain's voice.

"Comment voulez-vous si je frappai votre derrière, le capitaine?" I muttered more to myself than as a rebuttal, but Steve still heard it, earning another smack to my own ass. "Damn it Steve!"

"Find a language I don't know if you want to talk about my derrière," he chuckled.

I humphed in irritation, trying to figure out a language he didn't know. It struck me of one he couldn't possibly know. "Dul chun tosú ag glaoch ort Captaen pants daingean," I said, hitting the accent just right.

"Did you just speak Gaelic?" he asked as we entered the elevator. He put me down to look at me and all I could do was smirk.

"You know I did, but you don't know what I said exactly. No punishment needed," I replied, my brown eyes bore into his blues. His eyes narrowed at me and the corner of his mouth twitched causing me to back up into the elevator wall. I knew that look and I usually paid for what I did and/or said, and the thought of it made my panties damp. His hand came up and brushed my hair out of my face.

"What am I gonna do with you,  Eleanor?" His voice was silky, yet husky. His eyes were playful, yet the way his jaw was set meant he was in the mood to do more than play.

I swallowed hard and licked my lips.  "Tuck me into bed and read me a story?" I couldn't help but smile, so I bit my lip to keep myself from making it noticeable. I failed.

The elevator opened and he grabbed my hand to pull me out and to our door. Before the door even latched shut, he had me pressed against the wall beside it, his mouth hungry on mine.


	4. Three

I felt the blankets being pulled from my body causing me to curl up into myself to get some warmth as my one hand reached for the sheet, comforter, anything to get warm again. A chuckle sounded from above, just behind me, and I knew it was Steve.

"C'mon, Beck. Fury has another mission," he chuckled, throwing some material on me, most likely my black cargos, black shirt and jacket. I groaned as a rolled up, glaring at the blonde.

"I need my bra and panties too," I complained as I stretched. Soon, something satin hit my shoulder and back. "Thanks, Rogers." I slipped my bra and panties in, easing my eyebrow at him when I noticed which ones he grabbed. "Cherry red?"

"I like that color on you," Steve replied as he pulled the light blue muscle shirt on before grabbing his pants. I always loved watching him get dressed in his uniform, more so when it was the stealth one. Something about the navy material and just the silver star and stripes on his chest and shoulders made me extremely turned on.

"Easy there, Lena," he chuckled, his hands fastening the top of his uniform, "I promise after this mission, I'll keep it on." He bent down and kissed my forehead, a whimper escaping my lips causing him to chuckle even more.

I huffed and got up, slipping the lace panties on then donning the bra. Normally I would put a show on for him, but I couldn't get too distracted. It seemed to be an important mission. Had to be. Why else would Fury call us in after debriefing this morning and only been in the states for less than 36 hours. "What kind of mission is this?" I asked, stepping into my cargos, silently thanking Bobbi for talking me into wearing them. It was rather this or that horrible catsuit that Natasha always wore and I went with comfort.

"HYDRA warehouse. Recon only, so hopefully nothing exciting happens and we can go back to enjoying our time off." He sat down in the bed and pulled his right boot. "It'll be us, Sam, and Clint. Should be easy."

"You just jinxed it," I groaned, pulling my brown hair out of the shirt and started to finger comb it to put it up. "Everytime you swear it'll be simple or easy, something goes wrong." I pulled the ponytail taunt and slipped my arms into the jacket. I grabbed my own boots and started to lace them on, sighing with relief that this mission didn't call for heels.

"Kind of miss you dressed in a tight dress, heels and your hair in curls," Steve whispered in my ear. I never noticed him sneaking behind me, and he made me jump. "Dammit, Rogers. Don't do that."

"You're a spy. Nothing should sneak up in you," he mused.

"You're stealthy as fuck, though. HYDRA is just...oh shut up." I smacked his arm as he started laughing, falling back on the bed, his eyes crinkled and his left hand over his perfect, right pec. "Let's just go," I muttered, pocketing my cellphone and walked out the door.

* * *

"Kind of unfair that Fury had you two going back out when you two haven't been grounded for more that two days," Sam said next to me as I checked my guns.

"It's the job," I shrugged holstering the gun to my hip before picking up the next one. "We all know what we were signing up for when we joined." I holstered the gun to my other hip as I pocketed extra ammo. Sam handed me a knife and I rolled my eyes. 

"It'll make me sleep better knowing you have a close range," he smiled sincerely. Since I joined a few years ago, Sam treated me like a little sister, even more so when I started to date Steve. Even Bucky began to treat me the same way.

"Fine," I replied as I took the knife and undid my belt to loop the holster onto it. "Steve said it's recon, but why are we taking a seven man team? I mean, this is something that Nat and Clint can do with their eyes closed. Why do they need the rest of us?"

"I guess this warehouse is huge. It would take the two of them a week to gather info," Sam explained as he checked his connection with Redwing, mumbling words to the mechanical glider.

I let out a chuckle, making the dark man look up at me with confusion. "Sorry, was just thinking if Redwing was an actual bird, how you would treat it then. Since you treat this robotic one like it's your pet. Talking to it, telling people to pet it."

He smiled and looked at me. "Well, I don't think Tony would appreciate it if I got an actual bird and had it living in the tower," he laughed as he added the glider to his wing pack. "Ready?"

I nodded and followed him out of the room to meet up with the others, which also included Bucky and Wanda, the latter I haven't seen since before my previous mission. I gave the auburn hair girl a hug, squeezing her hand. She was the closest person I considered as my best friend and it was nice to be with her again. We listen to the run down from Steve, which was basic recon etiquette. Observe, do not engage unless necessary. We all boarded the Quinjet, but I felt a hand on my upper arm, half expecting it to be Steve, but when I turned it was Bucky.

"Be careful, Lena," he whispered in my ear, "Fury told me that we have a Hydra mole in this group, so keep your eyes and ears open. Don't trust anyone. Even Steve.

I looked at him appalled to even hear him say that. "Buck, I think the Spangled Man would be the last person to be a mole. But I can't see any of them to be." My face fell into a frown as I looked at Bucky nervously.

"Just be careful," he repeated, "please. We're all separated in this. Don't let your guard down." And with that, he boarded the jet. 

I felt this pit in my stomach, a bit worried at his words. Why would Fury tell Bucky when Steve was lead on this mission and why would Bucky tell me? There was a feeling inside of me to be leery of him as well as everyone else, but Steve? Really? I shook my head and followed him on board, taking a seat next to Wanda and strapped in. This is going to be a dandy of a mission already.


	5. Four

"Beck, you got eyes on Cap?"

I moved my wrist close to my mouth so I wouldn't have speak too loud. "Why do I need eyes on Cap, Wilson?" I whispered trying to keep the panic out of my voice, as I pressed my back against the wall after hearing a noise around the corner.

"Beck, Cap's not--" Sam started to speak again, but I shushed him and drew my gun from my hip holster. I took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever was around the corner. The shadow on the floor eased my discomfort as I saw the outline to be that of Steve's.

"Steve?" I whispered, my gun still ready to be used just in case.

"Lena?" he answered back, "It's just me."

He came around the corner, his shield in front of him, helmet off revealing his messy blond hair. He had a cut by his hairline, blood streaming down his temple and cheek. He looked like shit, but I hate to see the other person.

I holstered my gun, sighing in relief. "Steve, you scared me," I whispered, my hand reaching for his. He moved the shield behind his head to attach it the magnets on his back. I pulled him close and kissed him softly. It was against every protocol in the book, but Sam had me worried about Steve.

"Eleanor, do you copy?" Sam's voice said in my ear.

"Sam, Steve's with me. Relax," I muttered back, gripping Steve's hand more.

"Get a-- f--m --im!" Sam broken voice said in the com.

"Wha--"

"He's be-- com--ised!" Sam yelled, static coming through, breaking his speech.

I squinted my eyes trying trying to focus on what he was trying to say, and wondered why the com wasn't working now when it was before...

I looked at Steve who had a blank look on his face. I dropped his hand and stepped to the side to further distance between us.

"Steve," I said slowly, my hand resting on my holstered gun, "do you know what Sam's trying to say?" My eyes fixed on his blues, and I saw a grin on his face, one I haven't seen before.

"Only that I'm not your beloved Captain, ma chéri," he said in a mocked, saccharine, sweet tone. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as my hand tightened on the gun's handle, fear rushing into my system. He stepped towards me, a chilling look on his face. "What's the matter, Eleanor? Don't you trust me?" he asked with a sinister grin.

I pushed down the vomit that was rising in my throat as I drew my gun, shakily pointing it at the man I thought loved me. "Steve, what's going on?" I asked, my voice quivering, revealing my true emotion.

"Aw, is the little girl scared?" he mocked, taking another step closer to me.

"Stop," I whispered. "I don't want to shoot you."

"You won't," he replied.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, and I took my eyes off of Steve long enough not to see him approach and his arm wrapped around my neck. I struggled to get out of his grip but my vision blurred and breathing became difficult.

"Shhh, it'll be all over soon," Steve whispered in my ear, before he kissed my temple.

~~~

I groaned and turned my head, my hand tried to touch my neck to rubbed the soreness away, but it was tethered to the side of me. I snapped my eyes open and looked down. Both wrists were in zip ties attached to the bed I was lying in, which was inclined like a hospital bed. The plastic cut into my skin as I pulled on the restraints trying to break them. Tears welled in my eyes as I relaxed my hands as the became sticky with my blood. I looked around and noticed I was in a decent room, bright with the sun coming in through the windows, flowers were by the bed: yellow lilies, my favorite.

I looked down at myself and saw I was in a red satin camisole, and I could tell from the feeling I was wearing matching shorts under the blue and yellow comforter. My hair was washed and in a braid down my back and the thought of it made my blood boil.

What kind of mad person would do this?

"Ah, you're awake," a familiar voice from the other side of the room greeted me. Chills went down my spine as I turned my head towards the doorway, the contents of my stomach rose in my throat. Steve was in the doorway, light gray dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, paired with dark jeans with black boots. Very monotone, very unlike Steve. He leaned against the door jam, hands in the pockets of those un-Steve like jeans.

"Where am I, Rogers?" I seethed, pushing aside the fear, letting the more powerful emotion through: betrayal.

Steve gave me a tight smile, pushed away from the frame, and sauntered towards me. Instinctively, I moved my hands, forgetting they were secured at my side. A hiss of pain escaped my lips as fresh blood slid down my skin.

"Careful, chéri," he chuckled, grabbing a blue pan from the counter, "don't want you to harm yourself anymore." He sat down in the chair next to my bed and took a cotton ball from the pan and a bottle of clear liquid. He opened it and the smell of isopropyl alcohol hit my nose. Soaking the cotton with the solution, he moved to dab my hand but I cut him off.

"Don't," I warned, "don't touch me." He ignored me and pressed the cotton to my hand ever so gently, but a hiss escaped my throat as the alcohol came in contact with my wound.

"You use to beg me to touch you," he mused, eyes trained on my hand.

"That was before you choked me out," I muttered, my head feeling heavy as it fell back against the raised bed.

Steve chuckled. "Well, you were too busy letting Wilson in your head. You wouldn't let me explain."

"Explain?" I exclaimed, my eyes wide on him as he moved to the other side of the bed to tend to my other hand. "What was there to explain? My com worked fine until you showed up. Sam sounded worried when he was trying to warn me about you. Then scared. Nothing scares him, Rogers."

He nodded as he cleaned my hand. "That may be true," he said softly, sounding almost like old Steve, but I knew this was a ploy. "I need to bandage your wrists. Promise not try anything?" He walked away before I could answer him. He retrieved scissors, rolls of gauze and some white tape before sitting in the chair again.

"Do you promise?" He asked again, setting down the tape and gauze. The scissors were in his right hand, his left holding mine. His eyes were soft for a moment, and a lump formed in my throat. I nodded slowly and he snipped the zip ties off, making me wince.

"Sorry, chéri," he whispered as he picked a roll of gauze and began to wrap it around my wrist.

For a moment I thought he was my Steve again, but the softness was gone when he taped the gauze and squeezing my wrist.

"Ow," I cringed as he moved to the other hand, repeating the same actions. "You don't have to be so rough."

"I thought you liked it rough," he chuckled. "You remember our safe word, right? Pêches?"

I swatted the back of his head with out thinking. He turned to me, eyes lit up as he grabbed my wrists causing my nerves to be on fire with pain. He leaned forward, nose touching mine. I held my breath and waited to see what this Steve would do, but he surprised me with a chuckle and a kiss to the tip of my nose.

"Promise not to escape and I won't restrain you," he said and I nodded. I found out if I complied, he treated me almost like old Steve. He released my wrists, his hands rubbed my upper arms before one went behind my neck.

"Are you HYDRA?" I asked, biting my lip not ready for his answer. A part of me already knew the answer.

He gently rubbed my neck. "Yes," he responded, his eyes looking into mine.

"How long?"

"My mother was part of it back in the 30s," he sighed.

"She recruited you?"

"No."

"Who did?"

"Zola, before I met Erskine."

I nodded as the information sunk in. Captain America was HYDRA. The man who fought Red Skull and Nazis, said he didn't like bullies, and sacrificed his life (at that time) by downing a plane with bombs into the frigid Arctic waters, was was the thing we fought against.

How could I not have seen it? We shared a bed for almost two years and never once have I thought that the man I made love to would be part of the leading terrorist outfit in the world.

"You have anymore questions?" he asked in a soft tone.

"Just one more. Was it fake?" I whispered, not looking him. A part of me hoped it wasn't, but the other kept telling me to not be silly.

"No," he answered a bit forcefully, his finger tipped my chin so I could look him in the face. "All of it was real." His hand at my neck pulled me forward and kissed me softly, my eyes closing at the contact. It was my Steve that was kissing me and my hands went to his shoulders instinctively but once his tongue ran against my lips I pulled away, tears in my eyes.

 


End file.
